


Unspoken

by Raven_Ehtar



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: (?), Accidental Devotee Tony, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Dubious Consent, Forced Voyeurism, FrostIron - Freeform, Loki (Marvel) Does What He Wants, M/M, Manipulation, Masturbation, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Smut, Telepathy, Tony Stark Does What He Wants, Voyeurism, actual god loki, honestly idk, of a sort, pity the characters, the author is confused as to what is going on
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-29
Updated: 2018-10-29
Packaged: 2019-08-09 12:55:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,302
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16450361
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Raven_Ehtar/pseuds/Raven_Ehtar
Summary: "You know, not so long ago, your people worshipped mine as gods."Loki won't leave Tony alone. Apparently whenever he thinks too hard about the Asgardian, Loki is able to pick up on those thoughts - and Tony's thoughts have been a little... warm in regards to the rebel Prince. Which only seems to amuse Loki. He throws it back in Tony's face at every opportunity, only making it harder for Tony tostopthinking about him.Well, Tony's got a plan to get Loki to leave him alone. And it will be using those very thoughts Loki likes to look in on as the means...





	Unspoken

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so this is the first time I've written something explicit in a _long_ time, and honestly I'm nervous about it. Hopefully I've tagged everything pertinent. If I missed an important one, let me know, I'll add it to the mess.
> 
> ( **EDIT:** Additional tags were added at the request of a reader, including 'dubious consent.' Others have found this tag unnecessary, I'm adding it to be safe.)
> 
> This whole thing came about from a conversation with [STARSdidathing](https://archiveofourown.org/users/STARSdidathing/pseuds/STARSdidathing), discussing what might have happened after the events in [a drabble](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12058869/chapters/28033548) I wrote a while back. You can read this fine without having read the drabble, but I recommend you check out STARS if you haven't already, she's awesome.
> 
> Also, I'm blaming her entirely for the existence of this fic. :P

Inside his suit, Tony suddenly felt far too hot, despite all of the controls and fail safes he’d put in place specifically to keep him comfortable. It was also starting to feel just a mite too tight, which had never been an issue before. Of course, most of the time he didn’t have Loki grinning at him so knowingly.

The grin took on a distinctly lascivious cant, almost as though Loki could see through the faceplate and see Tony’s expression. The fact that he might be able to do exactly that wasn’t terribly comforting. Neither was the follow-up thought that he didn’t _need_ to, he just knew what was going on in Tony’s head. 

**_“Not long ago, your people worshipped mine as gods.”_ **

He shook off the remembered words, the way the mischief-maker had looked at him at the time, as though the entire suit were transparent to him. His armor was meant to shield and to protect, but under Loki’s gaze it always felt as effective as glass. He saw through Tony’s defenses, everything he tried to hide lain bare. At least he was certain that was the impression Loki wanted to give. He wanted to shake Tony up, throw him off his game. There was nothing in the rules whatsoever which said Tony had to _admit_ to anything which Loki knew-- thought he knew. 

Tony landed in front of the villain and, after a split-second’s hesitation, had the faceplate lift away. What better way to show he had nothing to hide than to hide nothing? “Hey there, Trouble. What are we up to today?” Good, that sounded fine. His usual cocky tone, no sign of being flustered. 

The gaze fixed on Tony turned amused - well, _more_ amused - at the greeting, and again Tony was struck with the near certainty that the demigod was seeing and hearing much more than he ever wanted to reveal. Loki raised one shoulder in a half shrug, turning to observe his handiwork. “Merely an exercise, Stark. An opportunity to get out into the sunlight and stretch one’s muscles, one’s abilities.” To demonstrate, he stretched out one hand towards Tony, his fingers making a little wave as each digit was also stretched. Tony watched it warily, arms tense and ready if so much as a green tinted _spark_ came out of those fingertips. “I know how much you value your time in practice at a task, in planning, in _imagining_.” The grin, never really gone, came back full force. Tony was glad he was the only Avenger to respond this time out. Loki was _not_ being subtle and he _so_ did not want to explain his behavior - or why Tony’s face was turning the same color as his suit. 

‘’Field testing’ I believe is the phrase. I’m certain you can see the wisdom in such precautions.”

“Your regard for public safety is laudable,” he said drily. “Except for those times when it’s not. I’m actually more interested in knowing what exactly this is a trail run _for_. I mean, even for you, this is…”

He motioned around them, a little at a loss, but glad to have an excuse to not look at Loki directly. For reasons known only to himself, Loki had decided that his time would best be spent in - apparently - gathering together into one spot every plastic action figure and toy within a mile radius, which turned out to be _a lot_ , and bringing them all to life. Or at least animating them. From what Tony could make out, none of them seemed to be sentient, but they _were_ all walking around, each one following its own path without too much regard for any other toy near them. 

Tony knew enough about Asgardian magic by now to realize that as silly as the result looked, it was actually an impressive display of Loki’s skill. Animation might seem less impressive compared to actually bringing them to life, but it took constant focus, as opposed to a single, initial push to imbue the inanimate with life. For all the toys to be moving, Loki had to be controlling each and every one, individually, every moment. The amount of focus that took was enough to be worrying. The fact that Loki was very publicly revealing the ability and potentially any of his future plans was confounding. 

As usual, Loki was up to something. Tony just needed to figure out _what_. 

“It is a little, isn’t it?” Loki looked over the plastic hoards with something like fond pride. Two of them near his foot tumbled into each other and fell over with a clatter. “But then, this demonstration really is superfluous to what I wanted to accomplish. I might have done anything at all.”

A premonition made Tony’s stomach sink. He was tempted to just take off, certain _enough_ with what Loki was going to say to feel no need to actually hear it. If he left before Loki was fully ‘neutralized,’ though, he would be questioned, and he had zero desire to explain any of this to the rest of the team. “And what would that be, Trouble? Just making a nuisance of yourself? You’ve been doing that a lot lately and I gotta say, it’s really cutting into my TV time. Do you know how hard it is to avoid _Game of Thrones_ spoilers?”

Loki wasn’t distracted. He usually wasn’t, especially when the distraction had to do with pop culture. Unlike his brother, he was much better at just rolling with what was tossed out, picking up what he needed out of the surrounding context or simply ignoring the references entirely. Or possibly he was just better versed in ‘Midgardian lore’ than Thor, which was weird enough to consider, given how much television the big guy was putting away. 

Loki gave him a look which more or less confirmed the sinking feeling he’d gotten. “Why, my purpose was to provide a convenient excuse to see you, of course. Or rather…”

Loki’s form began to shimmer, the only warning Tony got a split second before his forearms were gripped from behind. Warm breath hit his ear. “To give _you_ a chance to see _me_.”

It would have been a useless gesture to try and shake Loki off, even if he did come close to jumping out of his skin. Neck tingling with the closeness of Loki and his damned mouth, Tony concentrated very hard on remaining utterly still, his breaths even. 

“It seems you cannot get your mind off of me, Man of Iron.”

The spellcaster’s voice had dipped, becoming little more than a base purr. Tony tried not to imagine the sort of expression that would be on his face as he pressed close and murmured those words, but it was all too easy to do so. Disconcertingly easy. 

**_“Prayer amounts to little more than focused thought, which we can hear when it is focused on us.”_ **

“Well, you have been getting up to more than you usual amount of shenanigans.” Force of will and semi-familiarity with Loki’s current game helped keep his own voice steady, flippant. So long as Loki was only gripping his arms, he was willing to hold still, as well. At least until the unpredictable mage decided to try something new. “You’ve caught everyone’s attention back at the clubhouse. I’m not the only one with a case of Loki-on-the-brain.”

Tony was wearing his iron man armor, so it ought to have been impossible to feel anything even resembling a tracing of thumbs along his arms. Ought to have been, but he could swear he could feel it. Possibly the bastard was using magic to send the sensation right through his armor, just to make a point. It made Tony break out in gooseflesh, whatever it was, real or imagined. 

“Mm, perhaps. But you must admit that the tenor of _their_ thoughts are not like to be nearly so friendly as your’s. Wouldn’t you agree?”

“Well, you’d know that better than I would.”

_**“And we can hear what is thought.”** _

Tony heard, _felt_ the grin rather than saw it as he drawled _“Yes,”_ against his ear. 

Despite how warm it was getting inside the suit, even with all the regulatory systems he’d put into it, Tony shivered. 

“I’d say that I know better than any, perhaps even yourself, just how _friendly_ your thoughts have been. I feel a little compelled to thank you, Stark. Your thoughts are so very _flattering.”_

It was at that point when Tony would have thrown Loki off, the suggestive purr of his voice the final straw which broke his patience and his frozen inactivity, but the slippery mage chose that exact moment to disappear. Tony found himself spinning in place with no resistance, one hand raised and ready to fire - or at least threaten to - and was faced with precisely nothing. Just empty air and a _lot_ of inanimate toys. 

He waited a full two minutes, eyes and suit scanning for any sign of a return or some parting magic. When nothing appeared, he let out a breath, allowing himself to relax just a smidge. Of course, he couldn’t relax _completely_. Not when Loki could hear everything going on in his head when it pertained to him. 

And it didn’t look as though he was going to be able to stop himself from doing precisely that. Not with the phantom heat of Loki’s body pressing into his back, or the memory of a rumble against his ear. 

Very deliberately, Tony focused his mind onto Loki, and putting as much force and venom into it as possible, thought, _Asshole_.

He was sure that the answering chuckle was just his imagination.

—•—

Once all of the toys had been gathered up and those not too damaged returned to where they had come from - the possibility of any sort of magical contamination ruled out by Strange and Tony’s equipment - Tony gave a barebones report on what the rogue Asgardian had been up to. Some sort of experiment to test the limits of his magical control, he told them, with all the requisite showboating the guy couldn’t seem to help himself from indulging in. When asked if Loki had said anything which might offer a clue into his future plans, Tony had kept his face blank and hoped no one was looking closely enough to notice his blush.

Now, back in his own home and no longer constrained either by his suit or by the scrutiny of other people, he was allowing himself to unwind. With the help of a decanter or two. 

This new game of Loki’s had been going on for a couple of weeks now, and to be honest, it was getting on his nerves. It had been getting on his nerves from the very start, and he was certain was why Loki had decided to carry on with it. Every time they came face to face with each other, the mage made a point to remind him that he could hear Tony’s thoughts if they were directed at him, if they counted as ‘prayer’ to a ‘god.’ Personally he thought Loki was talking out his ass on that point and had just found a way to magic Tony’s thoughts into his own head. No way was he _praying_ , and certainly not to _Loki._

However the mechanics worked, though, Loki _was_ getting the inside scoop on Tony’s overactive imagination. Which was a problem, since his imagination seemed to be taking perverse pleasure in conjuring up Loki in… less than antagonistic roles. 

And, just as might be expected, Loki was using that knowledge to his advantage. Even on those occasions when Tony had backup with him, there was a way Loki had of _looking_ at him, of smirking in just such a way that made it perfectly clear what was going through his mind. Ordinarily Tony would have laughed it off, ignored it, diverted somehow… but the Asgardian was _very_ focused when he wanted to be. And there was something about Loki knowing exactly what was going on in his mind that made the usual coping techniques more of a challenge. It was hard to put up a front when the person you were trying to fool was in your head and not at all affected by any masks you tried to slip on. 

Tony flopped down onto one of his couches, most decidedly _not_ pouting, and sipped at his whiskey, not even really enjoying the burn as it went down. 

The whole situation was just beyond ridiculous, and it wasn’t even his fault this time! Well, okay, _fine,_ technically he _had_ started it, but how was he supposed to know that Loki would be able to hear those sorts of thoughts? It wasn’t as though he’d intended to _have_ them in the first place. They’d just sort of… happened. 

A few weeks ago there had been some sort of skirmish between the Avengers and Loki, something so minor Tony couldn’t even recall what it had been. The conflict had been overshadowed by what resulted from it. In any case, Loki had foregone the usual layers of armor, cloak and helm. Apparently it had been ‘dress casual’ in the world of villains that day. It had left Loki looking considerably slimmer than he usually did, his leather and metal getup giving him considerably more bulk through the shoulders and chest. Not to say that a dressed down Loki was any less intimidating. In some ways, it was actually a bit worse. With no armor to obscure him, his true frame was plain to see, and it was still impressive. Not so bulky as his brother, maybe, but with the implication that without his armor he would be freer to move, and it was already hard enough to keep track of him. 

Still, he hadn’t shown much inclination to _really_ cause much trouble that day. Tony had gotten the impression that he was just bored. 

That was the excuse Tony used for why his mind had wandered. Loki obviously wasn’t taking the situation seriously, so there had been no reason for him to do so, either. He’d relaxed his guard, listening in as Loki and Cap sniped at each other. He’d basically stood by as a nicely dressed but ultimately superfluous backup. Bored himself, he’d taken advantage of the relatively rare opportunity to look Loki over from head to foot, getting a much better idea of what his actual body shape was like beneath the layers… and his imagination providing suggestions of what he might look like with _all_ of the layers removed. 

It hadn’t even been a sexual sort of wondering. There was no heat to his thoughts, no real detail to the imagined nakedness in his head, just a basic outline of body and shape, an idea of just how lean he was versus how strong he would prove to be if tested. 

Then Loki had tilted his head at something Cap had said, exposing a long line of throat, and he had _smiled_ in just such a way, and the whole non-sexual thing had flown right out the window. The image he had in his head overlapped with reality and suddenly Tony was seeing a naked Loki looking at him with that mocking smirk and glittering eyes. 

It took him by surprise, but it wasn’t the first time Tony’s imagination had run amok without much in the way of input from the rest of his brain. He was ready to shrug it off and move on, with one last passing thought and wry smile. 

_I wonder if that talented tongue of his has ever been put to more interesting tasks…_

Tony stared into his glass, not really seeing the golden liquid inside. 

That had been it, the moment which had initiated the small hell he was currently occupying. He hadn’t known it at the time, but with the gift of hindsight, Tony could see all those little signs and know what they had meant. The way Loki had stiffened slightly, his conversation with Cap stuttering to a halt. His expression had clouded, Tony remembered, a frown crinkling his brow and pulling at his lips, as though he’d been confused by something. And then he’d looked straight at Tony, who had removed his faceplate until he needed it. 

Loki had stared at him, silently and intently, and Tony had stiffened under the scrutiny, having no idea as to its cause. Then he had given a slow kind of smile which had made Tony’s gut clench in anticipation, but he had done nothing more than give him a slight nod, as if in acknowledgement, and disappeared, completely ignoring Cap’s shouting. 

All in all it had been a weird encounter, but ‘weird’ was to be expected when faced with Loki. He’d shrugged the experience off, including the intrusive sex thoughts. They weren’t important. They didn’t matter.

At least they _hadn’t,_ until Loki made it clear that one way or another, he had heard that lascivious little reflection. Now every time they met - which was considerably more than they used to, a fact he was certain had _nothing_ to do with Loki’s sheer enjoyment of torturing him - Tony’s wandering mind was the topic of choice. And Loki seemed to delight in providing fuel to fire his imagination even more, little suggestions and insinuations, all apparently with the goal of seeing how it would affect his imaginings later on. And then the next time they met he would throw those same imaginings back at Tony, and grin at just how much of Tony’s thoughts he was beginning to occupy. 

It was hardly an accusation Tony could deny. Not when Loki was apparently privy to all of Tony’s thoughts when it came to _him_. Nor was it something he could just stop doing, either. He’d tried just turning his thoughts away whenever he began to dwell on the mage… but the more one concentrated on _not_ thinking of something, they were really just thinking of that thing more. He’d tried distractions, burying himself in work and projects until there was no room for anything else in his head. That had worked a bit better, his mind remaining a Loki-free place for hours. Until he’d put his tools down and began to wend his way to bed. Then his perverse imagination had insisted on making up for lost time. 

It wouldn’t have been so bad, Tony considered, if it wasn’t so damnably one-sided. If Tony had been able to lob anything back when Loki made his suggestive comments, then at least he would feel a little less like… well, like the only one affected. But no, any insinuation that Tony might make that Loki was just as preoccupied with him as he was with Loki was met with a smile and little else. Only Tony was left feeling embarrassed by the whole thing, and embarrassment seemed to be Loki’s entire goal. 

That, and driving Tony mildly insane. 

Which all led him, more or less, to where he was now: sitting at home, pouring out alcohol until he got the thought to shut the hell up. So far it wasn’t really a rousing success. He’d gone for the whiskey with the express idea of not thinking about Loki, and had done little else since pouring the first measure. There was the possibility that drinking was simply lowering whatever mental barriers he’d managed to shore up, making it even easier for Loki, wherever he was, to hear what he was thinking. He supposed he could just _keep_ drinking until he passed out, but given his tolerance levels that might take some time. Plus, his liver would _not_ thank him for the abuse. 

He poured another glass. He’d already lost count, but by how floaty he felt that the number must have been quite high. 

Stupid Loki and his stupid… _smile_. Smug, self-satisfied _bastard_ \- he hoped _that_ thought made it to him as well. Always smirking over how he knew what was going on in Tony’s head, the kind of power that gave him. It felt one-sided because it _was_. It wasn’t as though Tony could pinpoint with such precision what was going on in _Loki’s_ head. The only thing he could be sure was going through his mind, other than smug assholery, was what he was picking up secondhand from Tony, and that was hardly… help… ful…

Oh. Oh, no. 

An idea occurred to him. A terrible idea, one which was almost guaranteed to backfire on him spectacularly. It was probably only the copious amounts of whiskey which made it seem like a viable option at all. 

Grinning slightly, Tony put down his glass and did what he had been pointedly trying to avoid doing for weeks. He turned his thoughts to Loki and _concentrated_. 

He’d never intentionally tried to share his thoughts with Loki before, but considering that he had apparently been doing it without trying - correction, while actively trying _not_ to - it couldn’t be _that_ hard. 

_Loki._

He thought about the first time he’d seen the rogue Asgardian, decked out in full armor in Germany, eyes bright with rage and madness as he fought with Cap. 

_Loki._

He thought of when the mage had come into his home, the way he’d stalked the floor, assured in his imminent victory. He recalled the sensation of his fingers curling round Tony’s throat. 

_Loki._

He thought of the way he had appeared just before he’d been taken back to Asgard, bound and gagged and oddly accepting of his fate. 

_Loki._

He thought of the way the mage looked at him _now_ , eyes appraising, glittering as he envisioned things Tony could only speculate.

There was no way to be certain he had Loki’s attention, no sign he was aware of to signal when the Asgardian was listening in. He could only hope that his pointed attention had done the trick and that Loki was even now peering in on his thoughts, hazy as they were. 

Tony gave a slow smile. 

_You say you can hear my thoughts, my ‘prayers,’ when they’re directed at you. Even when I don’t want you to hear them. How ‘bout when I do want you to hear them?_

Very deliberately, Tony imagined Loki. Not Loki as he had ever seen him in any particular situation, but just Loki, as best he could remember him in every detail. It wasn’t terribly hard. As fixated as his thoughts had become, he was able to conjure up a _very_ good mental image. He imagined Loki in full armor, ridiculous helm and all. It was the easiest version to conjure, and would suit his nefarious purposes. He just hoped that Loki could see as well as _hear_ what was going on in his head. 

_My thoughts about you are flattering, huh? Well, Bambi, I wasn’t even trying. Let’s see how charming I can be when I put in an effort._

In his mind, Loki lost his helm, spirited away to parts unknown and leaving his head bare, his dark hair gleaming, the ends curling round his shoulders. 

_‘Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day? Thou art more lovely and more temperate…’ No, that doesn’t suit you, does it? ‘Temperate.’ Yeah, right._

Even in his mind, Loki didn’t fit the definition of ‘temperate.’ He was too wild and chaotic for the image of a demure maiden fair to suit him. His eyes were alive with mischief, the very lines of his face betraying the sharpness of the mind which lay behind it. One did not call a waiting wildfire ‘temperate.’

The armor melted away, going the way of the helmet, leaving behind a Loki in simpler Asgardian clothes, more linen than leather, with fitted breeches and a deep green tunic. The dark hue of Loki’s coloring was made all the more stark by the change, and it brought out his eyes - eyes which even in Tony’s imagination were fixed upon him, as though he were a mouse begging to be pounced on. 

_A different sonnet, then. ‘An eye more bright than theirs, less false in rolling; Gilding the object whereupon it gazeth.’_

Certainly _he_ felt gilded when Loki looked on him. And eviscerated. 

He hadn’t often seen Loki in these clothes, but it wasn’t the clothes which were important. It was the lack of armor. Without his armor, it was much easier to see the true shape of the other man: leaner and lither than he appeared when wearing so many pounds of leather and metal. Tony had seen Loki fight once without the encumbrance of his gear - he had been lightning quick, precise, vicious… and very flexible. 

Tony traced the lines of Loki’s shoulders with his gaze, narrower than usual, but still broad enough, still strong - Tony knew firsthand just _how_ strong. His focus went down to Loki’s chest, then to his trim waist, down to his hips, so very easy to see with how his breeches hugged him. Tony lingered slightly over his Loki’s back, examining that lovely curve where his spine dipped in before the line swept out again into the curve of his ass. 

_‘A man in hue all hues in his controlling; Which steals men’s eyes…’_

With a little smirk Tony hoped Loki could sense if not see, the last of Loki’s clothing melted away, leaving him bare before Tony’s imagination. 

_‘… and women’s souls amazeth.’_

From here Tony was left relying more or less completely on his imagination. Thankfully he had a _good_ imagination. 

Loki was strong, so obviously he had to be well muscled, but with longer, leaner lines than what his brother often showed off. From the slopes of his shoulders and down the gentle curve of his spine it was all subtle definition, soft lines that hinted rather than proclaimed the strength ready to be used. Around the front that strength was a little more obvious, with defined planes of muscle in his chest and abdomen. The bones of Loki’s hips jutted slightly, leading into sharp curves going down and in, cradling the base of his belly and leading to his groin. 

A naked Loki might require more guesswork than usual, but here Tony wasn’t left wholly to his own devices. Those leather pants left surprisingly little to the imagination. 

Tony eyed Loki appreciatively. He was generously endowed in length and girth, and still rather in keeping with the rest of his frame, Tony thought. 

_Flattering enough for you, Trickster?_

When Tony looked back up to Loki’s face he was caught again in an emerald stare. Perversely, even naked and technically under the control of Tony’s imagination, Loki was still wearing a knowing smirk. Rather than look flustered, fantasy-Loki had the audacity to look smug.

That wouldn’t do at all. 

_But what good is it to have you in such a state and simply standing around?_

He conjured a couch into the scene, on which Loki was abruptly seated. 

_I can think of a few things you might be doing instead._

Tony, pleasantly drunk and feeling warmer perhaps than that could answer for, turned his imagination in a certain direction and just _let it go._

He didn’t usually indulge overmuch in fantasy, whatever anyone might assume based purely on his behavior. Fact of the matter was, he didn’t _need_ to fantasize all that much, so when he did it was in small, short-lived snippets. There were very few actual _scenarios_ shelved in his brain library, and it had been some time since he’d last created a whole new one. Though, as Loki could and did attest, there had been plenty of new snippets appearing as of late. 

And his mind seemed more than willing to put in the effort of crafting an all new scenario running along the same lines. 

A naked Loki quickly became a flushed and aroused Loki. With his long hair tousled and splayed across one arm of the couch, Loki explored his own body with long fingers. Grazing over the skin of his belly, nails leaving pink scratches up his thighs and across his hips, it wasn’t long before his entire body was flushed, a splash of pink also blooming across his cheeks and the bridge of his nose. When one hand came high and found a nipple to pinch, his mouth fell open in a silent little gasp. The other hand travelled downwards, pressing and massaging his inner thigh, encouraging his own legs to fall open. Which they did, small enough encouragement required. 

Loki’s body was ready for him to continue. His erection was flushed dark and curving up so it practically dragged across his own belly. But he seemed intent on torturing himself, with one hand going back and forth between his nipples, while the other wandered and touched and stroked and pressed in every place near to, but never quite taking hold of his cock. He was more or less completely reclined now, having worked his way down from the semi-seated position he had begun in, with legs spread wide and his hips occasionally shuddering, little mini jerks as though begging _himself_ to end the teasing. 

Back in reality - which was feeling less and less real as time went on - Tony felt himself grow uncomfortably warm at the scene his mind was creating. Moreover, his own cock was beginning to take note of the proceedings, real or not. Perhaps he wasn’t as drunk as he thought. Not that he was going to complain, even if his own arousal hadn’t been a part of the plan. 

In his mind, Loki had slowed in his ministrations. When Tony turned his attention back to the Asgardian’s face, he found he was, once again, being looked at himself. 

It was a very different thing, having a Loki who was aroused staring at him versus a Loki who simply wanted him dead. For an instant he forgot how to breathe, and forgot that this was all in his head. He was used to seeing Loki with a smirk, or a grin, or even a scowl of rage, but this expression was… raw. With lips parted, pupils blown wide, and the barest glimpse of tongue visible as he drew ragged breaths, Loki gave Tony an expression that left him much more naked than just the removal of clothing had achieved. 

Then the mage took hold of himself, his eyes fluttered shut and he gave a low, abortive sound in the back of his throat which had Tony wriggling uncomfortably. 

Imagining Loki jerk himself off as a means of bothering Loki if he happened to be watching in on his thoughts was probably one of the strangest excuses Tony had ever come up with to shamelessly fantasize about someone he really ought not to, but damn. 

Loki kept his eyes closed as he stroked, his fingers forming a loose fist at first, lightly pulling along his cock and giving gentle wrist flicks towards the end. His other hand had gone above his head, taking hold of the sofa arm, as though to hold himself still. He began slow enough, but it wasn’t long before the hand at his cock was moving faster, his hips once again making those little jerks as he kept himself from fully thrusting into his own hand. A fine sheen of sweat had broken out over his flushed skin, highlighting how every muscle in the mage’s body clenched. And still his eyes remained closed, teeth digging into his lower lip. 

During all this, Tony’s own hand had wandered down low to palm at his fully developed erection through the cloth of his pants. When he became aware of how much he’d been affected and what he was doing, he paused. For a full three seconds. Then he tossed out any reservations he had and loosened his pants, released his aching cock and took proper hold of it. He wasn’t able to hold back the relieved groan the first few tugs got out of him, which made him realize something he should have noticed before. 

Loki had been surprisingly quiet throughout this entire fantasy. In fact, despite the obvious physical signs, Loki seemed to be mostly unaffected by what he was doing to himself. 

Tony wanted to see Loki affected. He wanted to see him squirming with pleasure and flushed with exertion. He wanted to see the cool and calculating man in absolute pieces, and he wanted to _hear_ it happen. 

Loki slowed in his handling of himself for a moment, his thumb making slow circles over the head of his cock, spreading the precum which had begun to gather. His chest rose and fell like a bellows as he finally opened his eyes and looked at Tony with dark, half-lidded eyes, the green mere slivers ringing deep wells of black. Releasing his stabilizing grip on the furniture, Loki brought his fingers to his mouth and sucked on them. He pushed his fingers in, drew them out and pushed back in again, fucking his mouth with his fingers and inviting Tony to imagine more of what _could_ be between his lips if he so chose. Tony cursed softly and forced himself to slow his own stroking, to loosen his grip. If he came, he knew he wouldn’t be able to keep up the fantasy scenario nearly so well as he was now, and he wanted the real Loki to get a full show. 

As much as Tony was enjoying himself, it was a message: If Loki was going to spy on his brain, then he’d better be prepared for _everything_ he was going to find in there. 

Damp with saliva, Loki removed his fingers and moved them downward. He was already spread wide, but he moved to spread even wider as the second hand took position and he began to circle his own hole with slick fingers. The hand on Loki’s cock stilled completely and his head fell backwards, leaving his long, pale throat deliciously exposed. His own cock throbbing, Tony wished he were in a position to nuzzle that throat, to breathe him in and discover his scent, to set in his teeth and feel, as well as hear, when Loki finally let loose _some_ sound. 

One finger pressed inside, and that sound was finally released. A gasp with a bare trace of Loki’s voice, but it was just what Tony had been hoping for - something raw and pulled out of him, rather than anything tightly controlled or designed. 

Now, just to have _more_ of that. 

Loki worked his finger in and out of himself, his tempo much slowed and his jaw slack as he adjusted to the self-intrusion. Even watching at a distance, Tony could see as the sensation became less strange and more pleasure by his expression, by how his speed gradually increased again. When the second finger was added, Loki gave a full throated, drawn out groan of pleasure which went straight through Tony’s belly and settled into his groin, hardening him further when he had thought he’d reached that particular limit already. 

Loki fucked himself with his fingers, and Tony stroked himself in time, imagining it to be him which thrust in and out of the mage, wondering what sort of desperate sounds he might wring from a tongue usually so eloquent. 

Tony might have been able to hold back from losing his own control completely if Loki hadn’t opened his eyes. If he’d just continued on, rocking against his own fingers in one direction and pumping into his fist with the other, and slowly lost control _over there_ , Tony might have been safe from his own vivid imagination. 

But no. 

The mage opened his eyes and _looked_ at him, blown pupils drawing at him like gravity… 

And he _whined_. 

Any sort of control he had evaporated at the sound, at the look he was being given. Tony growled - nearly snarled - and then he was abruptly a part of the scene as well, no longer just an observer. He was just as naked as Loki, just as hard, and already seated between Loki’s legs, those long limbs encircling him as he bent over the flushed and panting Asgardian. 

Up close was more intense than being at a distance, even within the confines of his own mind. The pull of Loki’s pupils, the violent green bands which were left, the sharpness of his teeth Tony could _see_ as he bit hard into his lip… Up close, he could see individual strands of hair as they stuck to sweat dampened skin, he could clearly make out the pulse at his throat, pounding hard and wild. 

With Tony settled between his legs, Loki released the hand on his erection to take hold of Tony’s arm, nearly painful even in a fantasy. He tugged at Tony, encouraging him even closer, seemingly trying to communicate something - though that was probably an illusion generated by his imagination.

He brushed some of the damp strands from Loki’s eyes, tracing fingers down the sharp curves of his cheek. Loki turned into the touch, breaking eye contact as he pressed his lips into Tony’s palm. Tony’s breath caught at the sensation - so real! - only to be stolen completely when the mage’s tongue flicked out, tasting him. Of all the places on his body to be an erogenous zone, the palms of his hands were a surprise. Very few lovers had ever discovered it or taken advantage of the knowledge. Trust Loki to have found it almost immediately. 

Or, he would have. If this were real. 

Tony let him trace his tongue over his palm for a couple of passes, his cock practically twitching in response to that simple stimulation, before he leaned down to claim Loki’s mouth with his own. 

If he thought about it, then the idea of kissing Loki would have been ludicrous, even in a fantasy. Of course, this entire scenario and what he intended to happen next was _also_ ludicrous. Who in their right mind fantasized, in such loving detail and vividness, about having sex with the enemy? Who went from fighting a man during the day to dreaming about fucking him a few hours later? Obviously Tony wasn’t in his right mind, and to that extent, at least, he was alright with that. So he was allowing himself a little daydream of having his way with Loki, big deal. Besides, Loki had started it by teasing him at every opportunity. 

… Except that this wasn’t the first time he had done so. It might be the first time he had allowed himself to spin the fantasy in such detail, but there was a _reason_ Loki had been tormenting him the way he had. 

And kissing Loki, even in fantasy, just seemed to give everything a touch more gravity, made it more real. A kiss made it more intimate than any sort of nakedness had managed to do. 

Loki’s mouth was molten, it threatened to scald him as they came together. Any thought of retreat was burned away as Loki turned into the kiss and plundered Tony’s mouth, salacious tongue sliding against his, exploring, teeth nipping at Tony’s lips whenever he pulled back for even a moment. Tony felt he was being consumed, struggling to keep up with the mage. 

It seemed only fitting that he would be skilled with his mouth - he had a reputation for it, after all. 

When they pulled apart and Tony made for the mage’s throat to bite and lick, he realized two things. One: Loki’s hand had gone from his arm to his hair to grip and twist, while his other hand had abandoned its previous occupation to take hold of Tony’s hip, fingers digging deep into his flesh. And two, they had both begun to rock, hips grinding and erections sliding against one another where they were caught between their bodies. 

Loki’s pulse beat against Tony’s tongue, and when he gave an experimental suck, the mage shuddered so hard it shook them both. Tony _felt_ the gasp-and-groan Loki gave, which only encouraged him to suck harder, determined to have more of those sounds, to leave a mark behind as proof of--

Proof of what? 

This was all in his mind, a fantasy. He might think he was feeling Loki arching and rolling his hips beneath him, or even convince himself that he could feel Loki’s breath over his skin as he exhaled, sharp and shuddering at the press of Tony’s teeth. None of it was real. Tony was alone in his living room, sprawled out on his couch, half drunk and fully hard, jerking himself off to visions of a Loki who would actually welcome his touch, who would encourage him with hands and mouth, who would shake and writhe when Tony touched him. A Loki who would look at him as though he wanted nothing more than to have Tony near him. It was a Loki that didn’t exist. 

After this, he never would. 

Fantasy or no, Loki grew restless, and used the hand in Tony’s hair to pull him away. Tony took a second to admire the vivid red mark left behind on the right of his throat before meeting Loki’s eyes. 

Rather than puling at him as he’d expected it to, the way it had before, Loki’s gaze was… curious. A small frown crinkled his brow as he searched Tony’s face. If Tony hadn’t known better, for several reasons, he would have said that it looked like concern. 

Loki released his hair, fingers trailing down to rest on his cheek. Tony leaned into the warmth instinctively. Loki had yet to speak a single word - because he was imagined and Tony had yet to give him anything to say - but there was no mistaking this simple communication of touch. 

Comfort. Soothing. Consolation. Whether Tony said a word or not, a dream Loki would be aware of the sort of knives which pierced his heart, and Tony’s imagination had Loki offering him a remedy. It was so pathetic, even for him, he nearly laughed. But to laugh would be to give up that comfort, and he wasn’t quite willing to do that.

Without noticing, Tony had sunk low enough to rest his forehead against Loki’s, so they were sharing air. In such a position, Loki had only to tilt his head to catch Tony’s lips in another kiss.

It was softer than the one which had come before. Almost tentative, Loki’s tongue remained behind his teeth for once. 

Tony stilled, as did most of his thoughts. In the back of his mind was the understanding that if this scenario was meant to make Loki uncomfortable enough to leave him alone, then it really ought not to feature any of his own vulnerability. Having that vulnerability on display would just be handing him more ammunition.

But the tender warmth of the kiss melted away any such considerations. Slow and inquisitive, it was less a consummation and more a… a tasting. Loki learning all he could of Tony through the caress. He did not plunder, he requested, and in so doing he offered himself up as much as he took. 

Yet somehow, when they pulled apart, Tony felt more thoroughly scoured than any passionate act before had managed. 

Loki gave him a smile. For once it was a smile which seemed to be completely in the moment, not one loaded with meaning or sly intent. Tony couldn’t help the answering grin he gave. 

A hand on his dick got him to jerk, and that simple smile instantly took on a satisfied edge. Tony huffed, and then groaned as Loki stroked along his length. He hadn’t softened in their few minutes of rest, but Loki apparently wanted to be absolutely certain that he was as hard as possible, pulling from the base all the way to the head and back at an agonizingly slow speed, twisting and palming at the head before repeating. Tony knew he’d been beading precum before, but it became all the more clear as the stroking grew slick in Loki’s palm. It took far too much control to not simply thrust into the tunnel formed by Loki’s fingers, to allow him to set the pace and remain still…

He _might_ have whined. That might have been what finally got Loki to look him in the eye, smirking slightly, and for him to push himself back, repositioning. He didn’t go far, not even so far as to let go of Tony, and as soon as he was resettled he was using his hold to guide Tony into position, lining up the blunt head of his cock against his entrance. Arranged to his satisfaction, he took away his hand, interlocking his fingers behind Tony’s neck and slinging one hot and heavy leg over Tony’s hip. 

He looked at Tony, ready and expectant. 

Tony wasn’t about to make him wait at this point. Not when it would mean making himself wait as well, and his cock throbbing in time with his heartbeat. 

Hips flexing, Tony pressed into Loki. When the first breach was made, he stopped a moment, attentive to the soft hiss Loki gave. When he opened his eyes and gave Tony a glare, pulling slightly at his hip with a leg, Tony smirked. 

Even with the preparation from before, Loki was tight. He moved slowly, occasionally pausing to work back and forth until Loki adjusted around the intrusion enough for him to push deeper. He was aware they had no lubrication besides what little in the form of precum Loki had palmed over him, which ordinarily wouldn’t be enough to feel comfortable. But this being a highly vivid daydream made all the difference. Or perhaps Loki was using his magic. 

His progress was accompanied by some of the most delicious sounds from Loki. Sighs and gasps, low groans and almost inaudible grunts, approving hums and the occasional cry, each cut off before they were fully formed. Loki’s body encircled Tony’s, so he felt it every time the mage tensed or shuddered or relaxed, every time a shiver ran across his skin, or when he melted again in pleasure. 

When he was at last fully seated, Tony paused, breathing deep, as much to give himself a moment as Loki, whose breathing was decidedly more erratic. 

Erratic or no, Loki didn’t allow them much breathing time before he was moving, rocking a little beneath Tony, encouraging him to move. For a moment Tony didn’t, enjoying the feel of Loki underneath him, the sharp little pains as his nails dug into Tony’s flesh - more encouragement, frustration at his stillness, or both. Certainly the growl, breathed out hotly right against Tony’s ear was a frustrated one, and had Tony grinning even as a shiver chased over his skin. 

It was all a part of the fantasy. A Loki which not only accepted him, but _wanted_ him. Perhaps the only thing less believable was just how silent he-- how silent they both had been throughout it all. 

When at last he began to move, the little pains where Loki was digging in with his nails increased, and then disappeared as he threaded his arms beneath Tony’s to take hold at his shoulders. The mage gave a satisfied sigh and wrapped his legs completely around Tony’s waist, holding him in place. Held so close, there was no way to get in any real powerful thrusts… but that was fine. Tony found he rather liked the closeness of this position, and there was room enough to set a pace and strength which got Loki to let out more of those wordless noises. 

And Loki _certainly_ seemed to enjoy the position. He held tightly to Tony, a wordless demand that he stay, writhing as Tony rocked in and out of him. The pants and moans beside Tony’s ear became less and less controlled, and every point of contact between them grew slick with sweat. 

Tony was losing track of his own thoughts. All there really was, was the heat of being inside of Loki, of being wrapped up completely, tangled and held in his embrace, their breathing ragged but ragged together… This was a place where he belonged. It felt right. Even if it wasn’t real. 

A deep gasp and clenching from Loki warned him how close Loki was. Every one of his limbs tightened until Tony was lying right on top of him. Tony increased his pace, his own end coming fast, felt Loki’s cock trapped between them, impossible to take hold of, but with no need to as they were. 

Every thrust brought a sharp cry from Loki, counter measured against Tony’s. He went hard and fast, rhythm lost to the momentum of the last spiral, the light scrape of teeth at his shoulder where Loki had buried himself spurring him even more. 

With a last two hard thrusts Tony spilled, and he truly felt as though he were _spilling_. Spilling all he was into Loki, the essence of him moving from one to the other, where there could be no more secrets, no more hidden agendas, because Loki would _know_. 

As he spilled over, he called out in both dream and reality, _“Loki!”_

An instant after, so near it was nearly simultaneous, Loki joined him with a strangled cry of _“Tony!”_ as he came between them, his body going rigid and locking Tony in place as hotness spread over the bellies. 

Tony slowed to a stop, body trembling and gasping for air. As he slowly came back to his senses he was startled to realize that the fantasy scene hadn’t immediately dissolved. In fact, it still felt as real and present as it had throughout the session. 

Tony had lost what little ability had remained to him to stay supported on his arms, and he had collapsed entirely over Loki. The mage didn’t seem to mind either the weight or the damp, sticky contact. In fact, as Tony’s mind pieced itself back together, he became aware of fingers carding through his hair, down his spine. It was soothing, comfortable, and disturbingly intimate. Which was an odd thing to think, all things considered. 

While he got his breath back, Tony risked testing his arms enough to lift up, to look Loki in the eye. Less black and more green, Loki regarded him with a faint, satisfied smile. Tony was tempted to kiss him again. He _wanted_ to kiss Loki again, but that… that felt like too much. After all the rest, a _kiss_ felt as though it would be too much. An admission, maybe, or just too much of a self-indulgence?

Either way, Tony held back and smiled at the dream Loki. “I hope that was flattering enough for you, Bambi,” he said with a wink. 

And then, very deliberately, he closed down the fantasy.

Tony was left sprawled on his couch, a cooling pool of semen over his belly and fingers, and very much alone. He had been alone the whole time, but now he felt it, without even the imagined warmth of long limbs, heavy with exhausted pleasure draped over him. 

Feeling colder than that simple absence ought to account for, Tony forced himself up, hobbling towards a shower to clean up, wondering if that exercise would prove enough to keep Loki out of his head. 

Under the pounding of hot water, washing away the phantom sensations of something which had never happened, he wondered if that would be a good thing.

—•—

It was a little difficult to tell if Tony’s late night exploration into truly weird justifications for a jerk off session actually paid off or not. He had been planning on making some sort of comment, innocuous on the surface, to Loki the next time he saw him, or perhaps giving him a much less innocuous and much more lascivious look instead and seeing how the Asgardian responded. With luck the reaction would be closed off, or maybe even flustered, with flashes of what Tony had sent along to him replaying in his mind, and he would at last back off a bit. Things would be uncomfortable - with the nexus of that _off_ of Tony for once - until enough time had passed so they could both forget about the whole episode altogether. They could go back to the comfortable, uncomplicated roles of hero and mostly-villain. Relatively uncomplicated, anyway.

There was always the risk that, after what Tony had indulged in, Loki would simply consider it an upping of the stakes and be even worse the next time they met in the field. In fact, the more Tony thought about it, the more likely that seemed, and the more apprehensive he got about seeing the Asgardian in person again. 

Or it was possible that Tony’s plan had failed entirely, and Loki never got the message. It might turn out that the only one in his head that night had been himself. While that would be frustrating in one way, it would be a considerable relief in another. 

In any case there was no way for Tony to try and decide which of those options was the most likely one to have occurred, because all activity and sightings of the mage abruptly dropped off. Loki had been making semi-regular appearances of late, either for what could officially be considered ‘evil schemes’ or more often just to make a nuisance of himself. Frankly even the ‘evil schemes’ were questionable in Tony’s mind, and deserved the air quotes. Had they ever succeeded, sure, he could see it, but Loki never seemed fully invested in pulling any of them off. He was like a kid threatening to do something particularly naughty just to get attention. 

He supposed if he really wanted to, he could choose to assume that Loki’s sudden absence was because of the rather hot and heavy evening he’d sent him, that his chosen response was to just avoid interacting with Tony at all. That felt like a rather dangerous assumption to make, though, as it assumed Tony could count on _not_ seeing the mage for a while, and that was a little presumptive. And it didn’t feel right. Loki didn’t seem like the type to hide himself away, even if he were embarrassed. He seemed more the type to go right up to the source of his embarrassment, toe to toe, and look it dead in the eye rather than hide. Though all Tony had been hoping to achieve was to get the man to stop leering at him. 

Loki disappearing entirely was almost the opposite of what he’d intended. The mage being out of sight usually meant he was up to something. If there was one thing Loki could be trusted for, it was to be devious, and Tony was nervous to see what sort of shape any plotting was likely to take in this case. 

However, days went by and there was no sign of the rebel Prince. No physical sign, no whispers, no hints. 

The rest of the team took a collective breath of relief at the break. While they might not trust silence out of Loki, either, they at least were willing to take it when it came. Tony, on the other hand, only became antsier as time dragged on. He had JARVIS increase his combing for anything Loki related popping up over the various feeds he kept track of. Tony himself sifted through feeds and reports, picking out and dissecting any tidbit which might, conceivably, lead back to Loki or some plan of his. He turned up empty every time and JARVIS remained silent on the subject, save for the increasingly sarcastic responses he would give whenever Tony asked. 

After a few days Tony was exhausted with his own preoccupation, and nearly numb to the idea of Loki going MIA. Loki was Loki, notorious for doing what he wanted and to hell with the consequences. He would pop up again when it suited him. Nothing Tony could do was going to change that. 

He did his best not to think of Loki at all. 

He almost managed to convince himself that he was successful. 

It was just about a week after ‘the Incident’ when he was shown just how wrong he was about that. 

He was working upstairs, rifling through page after holographic page of blueprints and plans. He was only half aware of what he was even looking at, functioning more on autopilot than any sort of active brain activity. It was something to do, something to take up time and occupy his mind while he was _not_ thinking of other things. It was almost relaxing, putting his brain in a sort of limbo, free of practically everything. If the yoga instructors were right, it was practically Zen. Except for the fact that his body was buzzing, keyed up and ready to move, to do _something,_ if he could just find an outlet. Perhaps out of a latent streak of masochism, Tony refused to answer that need, and kept himself sat down, doing nothing more strenuous than shuffling light. 

Nothing more strenuous until he was practically leaping out of his skin and onto his feet when a warm puff of air hit his ear. 

_“Stark.”_

Heart knocking painfully against ribs and the deeply embedded arc reactor, Tony was on his feet, keyed up body ready for whatever action had just found him.

And there was Loki, the long lost Prince, straightening up from leaning over the back of the couch, an amused smirk pulling at lips and lightening his eyes. 

Tony blew out a breath, relieved and at the same time realizing how stupid it was to feel that way when _Loki_ had snuck up on him. “Reindeer Games,” he said, clutching at his chest a little dramatically. “Remind me to introduce you to an Earth concept. It’s called knocking.”

The smirk grew a little, revealing teeth. “Oh, I’m well aware of the custom,” he said, tilting his head at Tony. “I was simply under the impression that we had moved somewhat beyond such pleasantries.”

It was then that Tony noticed that Loki wasn’t in his usual gear. He wasn’t sporting the ridiculous golden helm or the layers of leather which made him creak and groan like a ship under full sail. He wasn’t even wearing what Tony had thought of as ‘Asgardian everyday’ the few times he had seen Loki wearing it, which involved fewer layers, but still boasted fitted leathers from top to bottom. 

This… Loki looked more like something off of a romance novel cover. One of those overheated affairs where the hero sported a shirt open down to the navel, loose in the sleeves so they could flutter fetchingly in the breeze along with the overlong hair. Loki hadn’t quite gone full Harlequin Romance, but he was on the way. Any leather up top was completely missing, leaving him in a dark green tunic which, yes, sported loose sleeves and was open at the throat - but thankfully it pulled back together soon after. The couch obscured much else, but Tony could see the waist of his pants, at least. They were leather, but not the usual type. Not the shiny, prepared leather meant to act as armor, these looked softer. 

Realizing he was staring, Tony shook his head. “Oh, yeah, and why’s that? Is it a thing on Asgard, after a certain number of ass-kickings there’s an open door policy between enemies?”

“Perhaps. Eventually,” the Prince conceded. “But that’s usually due to one or the other no longer being in any condition to bar their door against intrusion.”

Tony tensed, uncertain if he ought to be prepping for a fight or not. Loki’s attire, all of his body language said no, a fight wasn’t incoming, but… “I dunno if you noticed, Lokes, but I ain’t dead.”

Loki’s eyes did a quick sweep of him, only making him tense further. “No. You are very much alive.” He kept his eyes locked on Tony’s a moment longer before he looked away, releasing the grip he’d had on the couch back. “No, you are most assuredly alive, and your mind so very _busy.”_ He paced, walking round the couch as he spoke. “Do you know I’ve hardly had a moment’s peace this last week, all because of that very loud brain of yours?”

“So sorry about that,” Tony said, all insincerity as he watched Loki move. It wasn’t a walk so much as it was a prowl, a predatory stalk. And yet somehow Tony still felt no threat. “I’d hate to think I disturbed your beauty rest.”

Loki continued his prowl, trailing fingers along furniture, only raising his eyes to Tony again when he turned to face him fully. There was nothing between them, nothing to shield Tony from whatever it was Loki intended. Like prey, Tony froze under the stare leveled at him. “I’d say you disturbed rather more than _that,”_ he said, and slowly began to walk towards Tony. 

Abruptly Loki’s lack of armor felt _more_ like a sign of intent, not less. Certainly the intense look in his dark eyes was full of intent, as was every careful step he took towards Tony. As the distance between them shrank, the air seemed to grow heavier, as though it were being compressed, squeezed together, totally unsuitable for breathing. Without intending to, Tony took a step back to match one of Loki’s forward, seeking more air, something he could actually breathe. Loki didn’t miss the move, his lips twitching in response, but neither did he stop in his approach. 

“I take it you got my little, ah, _flattery,_ did you?” Tony cleared his throat, not liking just how choked his voice sounded to his own ears. “I’d wondered if that worked or not.”

“Rest assured,” Loki took another step, which Tony matched with a backward pace, _“it did.”_

For a brief second Tony wondered if he was about to be ripped to pieces, a long delayed revenge for the little vignette sent straight into Loki’s brain. No more games, no more complicated schemes, just straight forward violence to redress an insult. But no, there was no mistaking the look Loki was leveling on him, the way his eyes travelled over his body, lingering here or there before moving on. There were few ways to misinterpret the quality of Loki’s stalking, the tension piling up in the shrinking space between them. And it was all only confirmed in Tony’s mind when he glanced down and saw that Loki hadn’t bothered with boots. He was barefoot.

“So, what,” he asked, continuing to back away, keenly aware that he was rapidly running out of space in which to back up _to._ “You get a free preview, and now you expect to get the real thing for the asking?”

An eyebrow raise ought not to have been enough to spike Tony’s already uncomfortable temperature. “I would not dare to be so presumptive…”

Tony started when his back hit a wall, much sooner than expected.

“… unless I knew there was genuine, reciprocal interest.”

Tony’s heart felt as though it were trying to escape, an action he ought to mirror himself. Loki was still several paces away and moving slow. There was plenty of time to get out of his corner, out into open ground, to call JARVIS for a suit or backup, to do _anything_ … but he stayed put. He stayed still, back to a wall while Loki slowly came nearer and nearer, giving him plenty of time to escape if he wanted to.

Tony stayed still, skin thrilling under the phantom sensation of heavy air. 

“Oh yeah? And why would I have interest in someone like you - one of the bad guys?”

For a moment Loki’s smirk took on a hard edge. “Are you so certain that’s what I am? I would have thought you would be more cautious in the giving out of titles, _Death Merchant.”_

There was no space left. Any time Tony had to escape had run out and Loki was right in his space, his palms pressed to the wall on either side of Tony’s head, the taller man having to look down to maintain eye contact. 

And _still_ Loki was pressing forward, squeezing out every last breath of air between them until Tony wanted to gasp. 

“You’re a good liar, Anthony Stark,” Loki’s voice was a purr, low and intimate. “But there is only so much one can lie to oneself. Did you think that I would fail to hear what thoughts have been bouncing in your skull since your… ‘preview?’ I have heard every thought you’ve had of me - so many my head practically rings with them.” 

There was no space anymore. Loki was no longer just in his space, he was pushed right up against Tony, their bodies pressed together in a long line from chests to thighs. Tony made the mistake of stepping out one foot - balance or a long overdue bid for freedom? - and Loki adjusted, slotting himself into the gap created so that he stood with Tony’s legs to either side of his. Tony tried to ignore the position, how it brought their pelvises together, or how strong the instinct was to press even more into the contact. Feeling himself growing hot, Tony dug his fingers into the wall behind him and concentrated very hard on anything that _wasn’t_ Loki’s groin pressed right up against his. 

Unfortunately all he had to concentrate on instead was still Loki. 

“Then your head was probably ringing with things like, ‘Where the hell is the bastard and what the fuck is he up to?’” Tony was rather proud of how little his voice shook. “I’m sure you’re used to that by now.”

Loki hummed, which was distracting when Tony could feel the vibration of it in his chest. Christ, he could feel _everything_ with the bastard pressed right up against him. Every little micro shift to keep balance, the rumble of every word he said, the way he _breathed_ , the heat of him sinking in and building on his own. It wasn’t safe to look him in the eye, not this close up, and focusing on his mouth would just be asking for trouble. Instead he let his eye fall to where the dark green fabric of his shirt fell open to reveal the smooth, pale length of throat, the subtle shadows of clavicle and tendons. Hardly ‘safe,’ but better than the alternatives. 

“Don’t you find it interesting how the meaning of words can be so altered by a simple change of _intent?”_ Loki tilted his head, revealing more of his throat as he leaned in to breathe directly into Tony’s ear. “Why don’t you try to escape? Are you frozen in fear of me, even as I am, weaponless?”

Tony huffed, but it came out more as a gasp. He kept his eyes locked in place, not trusting what he might see if he looked Loki in the eye, and kept his body as frozen as possible. “You’re never _weaponless_ , Loki.”

Maybe it was how husky his voice had gotten, or saying Loki’s name aloud, or both, but the mage pressed in just a little harder, forcing a sub-audible grunt out of Tony when a sharp hipbone ground against his.

“No,” he agreed, his voice damnably even, if a little… growly. “In this way we are just alike. You have not your suit of metal, but you are not without defenses. You are not weaponless, either, Stark.” Tony jerked in surprise when fingers trailed over his face, tracing a line from his temple and into his hair, his thumb settling just below his eye, lightly caressing his cheekbone. “So long as you have your mind, you are as dangerous and formidable as you ever are while in your suit.”

Tony wasn’t sure how to respond, his mind going blank at the… compliment? That’s what it felt like, and coming from someone like Loki only made it feel more like a grand admission. Because the same was certainly true of the Prince. Only a fool would consider him less of a threat when he was without armor, weapons, or even shoes. Loki’s greatest gift and weapon was his mind, paired with and enhanced by his magic, just as Tony was with his tech. Tony couldn’t deny Loki’s assessment of either of them, nor therefore of their similarity, so he stayed silent. 

Even so, the question rolled about in his head, unanswered. _“Why don’t you try to escape?”_

The thumb beneath his eye stroked gently back and forth, at once soothing and distracting. “Did you know that sexual acts can be considered as sacrifices to a god? Especially when they are given with that god… very much _in mind.”_

The wall was going to have his fingerprints embedded in it, Tony was gripping so hard, trying to keep hold of his control, his damned _sanity_. “Is that right?”

“Mmm.” And fuck, now Loki’s hand was moving again, trailing down to rest against his throat, the same place where Tony’s eyes were locked on Loki. Could he feel Tony’s pulse, how it kicked and jumped, making a liar out of him and his façade of control? Could he feel how his control was _really_ beginning to slip? It seemed impossible he wouldn’t, with their groins still pressed together. 

Tony remained very still. 

“Those who sacrifice to a god,” Loki murmured, thumb now tracing over pulse and stubble, “and whose sacrifice is accepted, enjoy a much closer connection with their god.”

There would be no mistaking Tony’s erection, now. Even if Loki had been wearing full leathers, the way they were pressed flush against one another would have left no doubt whatsoever as to Tony’s response to Loki’s touch, the vibration of his words, the heat of his body and breath. And yet he was remaining just as still as Tony was, not pressing the most obvious advantage at his disposal if this were intended as a seduction. 

“… You are not my god,” Tony ground out, barely audible. 

He could feel Loki’s lips brush his ear when he replied. _“I could be.”_

He shivered so hard it was nearly a convulsion, shaking Loki with its force. The loose collar of the green shirt slipped just a little lower, and Tony’s eyes widened when he saw the faint bruise on the right side of Loki’s throat. A bruise a few days old, at least, healing, and a _very_ familiar shape.

It was the _same_ bruise, the one Tony had been so determined to leave in Loki’s skin in his fantasy. There, in living flesh was the mark which had only existed in Tony’s shameless, overheated imagination. 

_“Tony.”_

He jerked again. He had only heard that rendition of his name on Loki’s lips once before, and it immediately cast him back to the exact moment in which it happened, finishing the work the sight of the bruise had begun. 

_Spilling,_ he thought. _I’m spilling all out of shape. And so is he._

“Stray thoughts alone do not reach us,” he was saying, and Tony was suddenly grateful for the weight keeping him pinned to the wall. Without it he might come apart entirely. “When one thinks my name, I do not hear every single one. There must be something more to bridge the gap. A connection. A feeling. A regard. A _desire.”_

Tony squeezed his eyes closed, a last ditch effort to deny what Loki was telling him, what he had been avoiding thinking of over the last month at least whenever his thoughts came back to Loki.

He was technically an enemy, but Tony didn’t see him that way. He saw a man that fascinated and frustrated by turns, who demanded Tony’s focus and attention even when he wasn’t there, beyond the need to know what he was going to do next. Loki was on his mind constantly, held there because he could not hold him anywhere else. And he _wanted_ to hold Loki. 

And from the feel of things, that was also mutual. 

“How much longer are you going to keep lying to us both?”

When he opened his eyes, he found himself staring straight into green darkened with desire, a sight so familiar and exact in their familiarity it made Tony dizzy. Loki stared back at him, searching for an answer, any answer so long as there was one. For the first time, Tony wondered what it must have been all this time from Loki’s side, to know with unfailing certainty when and how Tony had been thinking of him, and also the _why,_ even when Tony refused to see that part. 

He opened his mouth to say something, to admit, even softly that what Loki said was true, but the words wouldn’t come. He couldn’t admit the truth out loud, not even now. He almost laughed at himself. Instead, he chose to reply with action where words failed him, and rolled his hips forward. 

Loki groaned, his eyes fluttering closed. Tony tilted his head, all the more he needed to do to catch Loki’s mouth with his and take that groan for his own. He felt Loki smile against his lips triumphantly, and then quickly lost track of exactly who was where, as Loki took full advantage of their position to grind him up against the wall over and over. 

He might not have been able to admit anything aloud, but that hardly seemed to matter. The majority of their communication had moved beyond words in any case, and it seemed only fitting that for now it remain so, and any admission to how they felt, any acknowledgement of what they were to each other or what they became when they came together remain unspoken.

**Author's Note:**

> Did I look up Shakespearean sonnets for a PWP? Sure did. Specifically Sonnet 18 and Sonnet 20. And yes, Sonnet 20 is just as gay as it sounds. More so, actually.
> 
> Thanks for reading, everyone, [I'm on tumblr](http://ehtarwrites.tumblr.com/) if anyone wants to come say hi or chat about nerdy things! ♥


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